


From Now On

by EmmaKeladry



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Character Death, Culmets - Freeform, Episode: s01e15 Will You Take My Hand?, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SpaceBoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaKeladry/pseuds/EmmaKeladry
Summary: From the moment that Paul wakes up from his coma, he knows that Hugh is gone. But he doesn't cry or let himself grieve. Grief eventually has to win.Added scene to "Will You Take My Hand", s1ep15.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	From Now On

**Author's Note:**

> It was a bit odd to go back to season one and write about this, but we never see Paul cry or emotional, not until s2ep1 Brother and he is talking with Tilly about seeing Hugh everywhere he looks. At some point, Paul had to let go and cry.
> 
> This angst came out of a Discord discussion and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. Sorry in advance! It is heavy.

**UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS, Headquarters, Paris, France**

_I’m gone._

_Gone?_

Lieutenant Paul Stamets heard Hugh’s words echo in his mind and he shook his head, trying to clear the memory, the sound of his voice. Not now. He felt the eyes of Tilly on him as they waited behind the stage, waiting for the ceremony to begin. He adjusted the cuff of his uniform as his hand shook slightly. Paul tried to make it stop. Tilly stepped closer to him and reached for his hand. Paul quickly withdrew, but she reached out and fixed his cuff for him. Paul stared out at the rain falling, drenching the proud and old city, sleek with modern adaptations, but with the old Paris visible by lights in the darkness. He listened to the rain hitting the windows, grateful for the distraction.

“Hey, are – are you okay?” Tilly asked, keeping her voice low. “I’m sorry if that’s a stupid question. You’re not okay.”

Paul swallowed around the growing lump in his throat. “I can’t do this here. I’m fine.” His voice cracked on the last word, but he didn’t acknowledge it. The stillness, the inactivity following the ending of the war and before today, it was pressing hard against him, squeezing him as he didn’t have as much to occupy his mind. But he still refused. There was work still to be done and he wasn’t tired as much as he used to be. It was fine. Yet, today, waiting for the ceremony to begin and knowing that something would be said about… _him_ , it felt overpowering to his sensitive emotions, the vulnerable ones that he refused to acknowledge right now.

Michael entered the small area and he immediately saw the Starfleet insignia pinned to her chest. She’d been reinstated as Commander Michael Burnham and her record was clear. Saru had mentioned it the day before but stated that Michael’s father wanted to be the one to inform her. He gave her a soft smile, but it barely reached his mouth. A glance from Saru almost undid him. Paul quickly turned away and fought to keep his breathing even. He was fine, he could do this. To turn off his emotions again; it felt more difficult, but he didn’t have a choice.

A bell chimed. Twice.

It was time for the ceremony to begin.

_You don’t know, do you? Paul, I’m so sorry… but I died._

Paul straightened and followed his crew as they lined up on the stage, flanking the President’s podium, where Admiral Cornwell stood and several high ranking officals. The bright lights flashed in his eyes and he recoiled slightly.

_Hugh flashing a light in his eyes as he lay on the floor, shaking uncontrollably after the incomplete jump. Hugh shouting something and injecting a hypospray into his neck. Hugh saying his name, but Paul discovering he couldn’t move. He couldn’t respond._

As quick as the flash came, it was gone. Paul missed a step, but Tilly steadied him for a second. They continued forward and took their places. Paul briefly glanced at Tilly, seeing the poorly concealed worry in her eyes that didn’t match the smile on her face. Paul gave the smallest of nods to assure her that he was fine. But he didn’t know if he was. His heart raced, causing his chest to ache and a few beads of sweat formed on his brow. Paul fought to remain in control.

It was happening, but not to him.

Paul tried to latch onto that as the Federation President thanked them for their service, their sacrifice in helping to win the war and save the Federation. Admiral Cornwell spoke of how their actions saved the lives of so many and how grateful they all were. She walked in front of each of them and one by one, pinned the Starfleet Medal of Honor to their uniforms. In and out. He focused on evenly breathing in and out, counting with each breath to distract himself. Admiral Cornwell stood in front of him and he held his head up steady as she pinned the medal to his chest. He felt the weight of it. Paul was proud of what they did, even if the cost…

“Lieutenant?” the admiral’s soft voice broke his thoughts.

Cornwell held another medal in her hand and didn’t move to the next in line. Paul knew. He held up his hand, not able to conceal the slight trembling as she presented Hugh’s medal to him. He cupped the medal in his hands and dropped them in front of him. Cornwell gave him a gentle smile and moved to the next person.

_I saw you die. I watched Tyler kill you. I held your body in my arms. I thought it was a dream._

_I wish it were. I remember your arms around me. You made me feel safe, you always did._

The weight of the medal… of Hugh’s medal in his hands felt too much. He wanted to drop it. He wanted to scream and throw it away from him. Hugh deserved so much more than a posthumous medal of honor. He deserved to live.

Fuck.

This moment. It was what Paul feared. He couldn’t face everything at his moment. Distraction. He had to do something to distract himself. In. Out. He counted his breaths, trying to even them out. Saru had already looked over at him once, no doubt sensing Paul’s vulnerability and pain. Paul straightened up, holding his head high. Ever so softly, Paul brushed his thumb along the very edge of the medal. It was cold, but slowly began to warm in his hands. Smooth. Again and again, his thumb traced the edge of the medal. Hugh’s medal.

The senior officers were requested to come forward in a line to be recognized. Paul’s feet felt like lead as he moved to stand next to Tilly.

“Today, we honor Ensign Sylvia Tilly, acceptant into Starfleet Command Training Program,” Cornwall began.

The audience clapped loudly, the sound ringing in Paul’s ears. He wanted to shake his head to clear the ringing, but he couldn’t.

“Lieutenant-Commander Paul Stamets…” Her words were lost as his ears continued to ring.

Paul knew the promotion was coming. It was… an honor. But he never really cared about his career and promotions in Starfleet. That was more of Hugh’s dream.

“Medical Officer, Doctor Hugh Culber…”

Up and down. In and out. Paul kept his thumb tracing the medal, cupped between his hands. He focused on breathing. Admiral Cornwell finished with the rest of the senior officers and they returned to their previous position.

_This won’t change anything._

Hugh. Paul felt the tightness in his chest increase and he wanted to rub his side, to try to release some of the tension in his muscles. But he couldn’t. It ached. His chest ached. He blinked, trying to distract himself and think of anything else. Cold. It felt cold.

Michael stood in front of them. She didn’t face the audience but faced Admiral Cornwell and the crew of Discovery. Paul tried to focus on her words, but it was hard. In and out. In and out. His stomach churned and the nausea he’d experienced all day grew steadily. His throat was dry. He swallowed and tried to be present. In and out.

_I don’t want it to change. I want it to be the way it was. **Please** let it be the way it was._

The sound of applause startled him. Paul forced a smile in Michael’s direction, to silently thank her for her words, but it fell. Paul didn’t move. His fingers closed around the medal. Every part of his body was shaking as he immediately went behind the stage. He vaguely heard Tilly call his name, but he had to get away.

_I don’t wanna say good-bye._

_It’s never good-bye._

Paul grabbed the back of the nearest chair as hot tears ran down his cheeks. It took him several moments to realize that the rough gasping sound was coming from him. “Hugh,” he whispered. “I want it… I want it to be… the way it was.”

_I believe in you Paul._

_I love you._

It felt like every part of his chest was tearing apart. Paul used one hand to unzip the top of his uniform jacket. He was shaking so much that he could barely do it. He couldn’t breathe. The room spun around him, and his knees gave out. Warm, strong hands guided him to the floor. He was surrounded by people, but he couldn’t talk to them. Hugh. He wanted Hugh to take care of him. But that would never happen again. Never.

Gentle hands unzipped his jacket for him and pulled his arms free of the material. The medal slipped free of Paul’s hand as he reached to his chest and tried to grab where his heart was. It was breaking. Breaking into a million little pieces that no one would be able to recover. He wouldn’t love again. Paul wanted it to all be over.

A voice spoke to him. Soft and reassuring, telling him to breathe in and out. Warm fingers brushed his hair from his sweaty forehead, carding through his hair like Hugh used to do when Paul didn’t feel well, and he relaxed beneath due to the ministrations. The tight band feeling around his chest started to lessen. Someone gently picked up his hand and gave it a squeeze. Paul didn’t respond at first. Another shaky sob escaped his mouth. Slowly, he closed his fingers around theirs and tried to give a squeeze.

There was a pinch near his elbow and the pain brought him around a little. Paul picked up a few words, recognizing Doctor Pollard’s voice and the sound of a tricorder humming.

“His blood pressure is low. Mild dehydration. His blood sugar levels are dangerously low. Open up the line and push fluids.”

Paul blinked. It took several minutes for him to realize that he was laying on the floor with his head in Tilly’s lap and Michael was the one holding onto his hand. Saru knelt beside him, along with several others. Even Admiral Cornwell was there, looking at the results on the tricorder and speaking softly to Tracy. Rhys held an IV bag of fluids. Paul followed the line to the crook of his arm; it explained the pinch he felt before. It didn’t matter.

Paul closed his eyes. Dizzy. Tired. He needed Hugh. A fresh wave of grief hit him as he realized that Hugh would never hold his hand again or hold him in his arms. They would never fall asleep together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Hugh died. Hugh died.

“… Hugh…” Paul attempted to roll to his side and push all of them away from him. He needed to be alone!

Hands steadied him as he fought to move.

“You have to stay still,” Tilly murmured.

“Paul, I’m gonna give you something to slow your heart down. Your heart is beating too first and you’re not well enough right now.” Tracy’s voice was firm.

Paul reached for the IV line, but several hands stopped him. No. He didn’t want this. “No doctor. No drugs. Please – let me go.” Pushing himself up to sitting, in a display of strength that he didn’t have, Paul let out a cry of pain that chilled even himself. “I need Hugh!” It was getting hard to breath again. The shaking, the gasping. It hurt. An oxygen mask was pressed to his face and Paul tried to push it away. Unfamiliar hands held it in place. Paul placed his hands-on top, trying to force them to move, but he couldn’t. Saru’s hands.

The cool oxygen soothed some of the pain in his lungs and it did help. Paul felt the hypospray in his neck, but he didn’t have the energy to protest. Long minutes passed as he tried to stop crying but couldn’t. Paul caught Tilly’s gaze. Tears ran down her cheeks too.

“He needs medical care and rest,” Tracy said.

“We’ll take care of him.”

Paul didn’t know who answered. He didn’t care.

Hands helped Paul to his feet and supported him when he almost collapsed. Paul let his head fall on Tilly’s shoulder, not caring how it looked. Pressure formed in his temples. A headache from the crying and the lack of proper care for neglecting to take care of him since Hugh died. Numbness spread through his body as the tears continued to call. It was better this way. He didn’t even notice the tingle of the transporter until they were standing in his apartment, the one that he and Hugh called home when they were on Earth, which wasn’t often. Paul stumbled forward, shaking off those who were holding his arms. He sat down hard on the sofa. A soft blanket was draped around his shoulders. Paul locked his fingers in the soft material and lay down on his side, snuggling into the fabric. The IV in his arm pulled but didn’t hurt.

Paul didn’t feel anything, and he felt too much.

Tears dripped from his nose and onto the blanket. Paul didn’t know how much time passed. Tracy spoke to him, but he didn’t answer. She administered medication and gently patted his shoulder. Saru sat with him, not speaking, but sitting in his grief with him. Exhaustion finally caught up with Paul and the tears stopped. For now.

Tilly sat in the chair across the room, watching him as she held a cup of warm liquid. “We’re right here. We’re not leaving, Paul. Promise.”

Michael sat on the arm of the chair and nodded at Paul. “It’s okay to sleep. We’re here for you.”

Not Hugh. Paul wanted Hugh. Letting his eyes close, the memories washed over him, memories of a time where Hugh was holding him tight in his arms and kissing his forehead. The only place that their love remained was in his dreams and Paul held onto that. It would have to be enough for now.

_I love you too, Hugh._


End file.
